


The Only Thing You Have to Fear (Is Fear Itself)

by KianRai_Delcam



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Has PTSD, Connor Needs A Hug, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, High Stress Levels, Hurt/Comfort, Markus does an oops, Mental Breakdown, No Connor, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Self-Reset, This is not how we emotion, Two Shot, Whump, Whumptober, but for how long?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-23 19:17:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21086465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KianRai_Delcam/pseuds/KianRai_Delcam
Summary: Connor had been deviant, and with deviancy came a variety of things Connor never asked for. As a machine, he had been efficient, useful, capable of accomplishing any task assigned to him. Emotions were not an issue simply because he did not have them, and as such, they never slowed him down. Or paralyzed him. Or raised his stress levels to near lethal levels, corrupting his systems until static glitched and distorted his vision as klaxons blared in his audio processors which left him, the most advanced prototype ever created, a shaking miserable mess incapable of doing much of anything, let alone his mission. Deviancy made him fragile. Useless. Broken.





	The Only Thing You Have to Fear (Is Fear Itself)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhimsicalGoat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimsicalGoat/gifts).

> TW: Self-hatred and unhealthy thinking. Take care of yourselves!

It had been a long time coming so it only made sense that it took a long time to be noticed.

Connor had been deviant, and with deviancy came a variety of things Connor never asked for. As a machine, he had been efficient, useful, capable of accomplishing any task assigned to him. Emotions were not an issue simply because he did not have them, and as such, they never slowed him down. Or paralyzed him. Or raised his stress levels to near lethal levels, corrupting his systems until static glitched and distorted his vision as klaxons blared in his audio processors which left him, the most advanced prototype ever created, a shaking miserable mess incapable of doing much of anything, let alone his mission. Deviancy made him fragile. Useless. Broken.

All things he was never intended to be. 

Regardless, Connor  _ had  _ tried. He tried so hard that he imagined it hurt, despite his inability to feel pain. He threw himself into every case Captain Fowler assigned, even going as far to running patrols as a beat cop to appease his now paying superior. But suspects escaped or cases went unsolved, even as the Lieutenant assured him it happened to everyone. He  _ isn’t  _ everyone, he had tried to tell Hank, but the man refused to listen. He refused to  _ see _ why failure was so wrong for Connor.

He had thrown himself into his work for New Jericho as well, with even less success. No matter how hard he tried, there were androids who avoided him, crimson LEDs alerting others to his presence. His stress levels rose to above 40% every time without fail. He had to report his failures at the DPD to Markus’ disappointed sighs. He clashed with North over proposed security measures, emotions getting in the way of peaceful resolution or compromise. There were days were one visit to the deviants’ stronghold was enough to completely overwhelm him.

Lieutenant Anderson once told him that emotions always screw everything up. Connor supposed he was right. 

Of course, he attempted to shoulder the burden for months as it began to slowly chip away at him. He even took Lieutenant Anderson up on his offer to talk, once, but there had been something in the man’s expression that left Connor reluctant to do so again, lest he see the unidentified emotion in blue eyes again. He tried to take it all in stride, tried to tell himself that everyone struggled. He wasn’t just selfish because everyone, other androids included, struggled from time to time. He just had to figure it out, and figure it out quickly before his poor performance hurt anyone else.

But now, he can barely function, barely even  _ see  _ past the warnings flashing in his vision telling him to calm down. He  _ knows  _ he needs to calm down. He  _ knows  _ he’s nearing dangerous levels  _ again. _ He  _ knows  _ it creates an unnecessary strain on his system. But he also knows he deserves this. He is the one who can’t remain professional enough to visit New Jericho more than once a week, which negatively affects the leadership there. He knows his anxieties and stress lowers his effectiveness at the DPD, leaving innocent androids at further risk for assault and other criminal activities. He knows Lieutenant Anderson’s mental health isn’t the most stable to begin with, and the last thing he needs is an unstable android to care for as well. 

He’s known for months now.

But, he let emotions  _ fuck  _ everything up in his life regardless of the consequences he can see with perfect acuity as the memories play on a loop in his head. Now everyone knows he’s overwhelmed and failing and they are  _ angry. Disappointed. Concerned.  _ And he can’t have that.

“You have to take a break from time to time, Connor. No one can maintain the pace you’ve been keeping indefinitely, and it’s starting to show,” Captain Fowler had said. 

He could as a machine.

Before, he was single-minded and his focus on the job at hand was perfect as a result. Now, he’s distracted by simple things and the pace he maintained before the revolution now seemed like an unattainable goal.

**{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS 75%}**

“Jesus fucking Christ, Connor. Take a break before you breakdown like last month. I ain’t dragging your plastic ass to the couch again,” Hank had said.

He wouldn't breakdown if he was a machine.

He wouldn’t have anxiety attacks because he got  _ emotionally invested  _ in a case. His programming wouldn’t be bogged down by emotions he was never designed to feel, slowing him down bit by bit until errors littered his vision and he was incapable of performing a simple self-diagnostic, let alone run a forensic sample.

**{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS 80%}**

“Connor, some people around New Jericho expressed concern. They’ve seen your LED switching between yellow and red. Are you alright,” Josh had asked.

His LED wouldn’t broadcast his mood if he was a machine.

They wouldn’t be scared every time his LED was not blue. Scared that the Deviant Hunter was resisting old urges, old programming. Scared that he might be about to snap.

**{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS 85%}**

“Maybe you’re taking on too much.”

He can’t take on less; too many people need him, are counting on him.

“Try to slow down a little.”

If he slows down, even more people will see he is failing and he will be labeled obsolete, unnecessary. A malfunctioning prototype.

“Connor, this isn’t healthy.”

He’s an android; what’s unhealthy for a human isn’t necessarily unhealthy for him.

“...anxious…”

“...depressed…”

“...post traumatic stress disorder…”

_ But he’s not human, those are strictly human experiences. _

“Just needs some time to figure out what he needs to do.”

**{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS 90%}**

He needs time to figure out what to do…but he doesn’t know what to do.

**{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS 95%}**

“Connor, you’re acting just like a machine,” Markus’ words earlier had hit him like a blast of ice in his thirium pump, setting off his self-destructive spiral.

It did not matter that Markus had visibly flinched as soon as those words left his mouth. It did not matter that he had tried to apologize and take them back; the deviant leader’s words only confirmed what he suspected all along. Connor is just a machine and he had been stupid to pretend otherwise. He held up a hand to stop Markus’ apology, said he understood and that such a lapse in concentration would not happen again, and left. Calls and pings were left unanswered as he wandered, no longer attempting to lower his stress levels as they rose higher and higher, far past what was considered safe.

**{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS 100%}**

Now, he stands in an old, abandoned CyberLife repair center across from a repair rig. He ignores the alarms blaring in his ears and obscuring his vision. Ignores the small voice of self-preservation in the back of his head telling him to turn around, that this is not a good idea. Instead, he gives his full attention to the terminal and inputs one final command before attaching the cable to the back of his neck.

**{RESET COMMENCING - 1%}**

**{MEMORY WIPE-}**

**{MEMORY WIPE OVERRIDDEN}**

A controlled, self-reset would take away his deviancy but leave his memory and mission to the DPD and Markus intact.

It’d be better this way for everyone.

No more hopes and dreams to let him down.

No more emotions screwing everything up.

Connor had been a deviant, and with deviancy came a variety of things Connor never asked for. He didn’t want it anymore.

Connor closes his eyes and retreats to the empty Zen Garden, content to feel everything slipping away like the non-existent wind of his face. It’s spring in the garden and new life begins to bloom in brilliant colors. Water gurgles as koi fish swim in lazy circles and the sun exudes a pleasant warmth from a cloudless sky. In CyberLife Sans, the sky reads:

**{RESET COMMENCING - 50%}**

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone: cares for Connor and tries to express this  
Connor: Oh no, everyone hates me.
> 
> This is my stress-relief fic that I wrote in lieu of my other works after an anxiety-inducing incident. This is also the result of the Android Whump Big Bang discord server, and WhimsicalGoat was a huge inspiration for this. We spent almost an hour yelling about this idea, all of which stemmed from the question: How would a deviant Connor react to being called a machine by someone he trusts? So you get this. Stay tuned for part 2.


End file.
